


There Are Worse Fates

by NightWolfsTales



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cousin Incest, F/M, King Jon Snow, Queen Sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 15:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightWolfsTales/pseuds/NightWolfsTales
Summary: Jon had his crown, now all he needed was a Queen.





	There Are Worse Fates

It was all over now.

Cersei Lannister was dead and so was Daenerys Targaryen. Both died fighting for what was rightfully _his._

A few days after the war was over, Jon sat on the Iron Throne for the first time. He had his crown, now all he needed was a Queen.

 

* * *

* * *

 

There weren’t many options. All the great houses had fallen, after all. And only a highborn lady could be The Queen. And how many highborn ladies remained alive?

“If only Margaery Tyrell was still alive.” Tyrion’s remark brought Jon back to reality.

Tyrion was now his Hand, although Jon didn’t really feel the need of having one. He was fond of Tyrion, so he let him stay and keep his title of Hand of the King.

“What are my options?” Jon asked him.

“You _know_ what are your options, Your Grace.”  Tyrion said, staring at him with a compassionate look on his face.  

Jon _did_ know his options. He just didn’t want to believe there weren’t any others.

“It’s not like they are your sisters, anyway.” Tyrion tried.

Jon snorted. “No, they are my cousins. How is that any better?”

Tyrion took a sip of his wine, before approaching the table where Jon was sitting and sitting down next to him. “We just got out of a war… And you know that not _all_ of the enemies are dead. Don’t give them a reason to riot. You know what you have to do.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

Arya was his little sister. He couldn’t even consider the idea of marrying her, the thought alone made him sick at the stomach. 

Sansa… Truth be told, Sansa was never much of a sister to him. And Sansa had been wed before… He shook his head, a frustrated grunt falling from his dry lips.

Who was he trying to fool? He couldn’t wed neither of them.

 

* * *

* * *

 

“Jon?” Sansa called as she approached Jon at the gardens. He was sitting on a bench, staring at the sea, lost in thoughts. “Can I join you?” Jon didn’t say anything, he just nodded his head and Sansa took a seat, keeping a convenient distance.

“Do you miss her?” Sansa asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“It should be her sitting on that throne.” Jon said, ignoring Sansa’s question. He _did_ miss Daenerys. More than he was proud to admit. He loved her to her last breath, even after learning she was his aunt. “I… _we_ shouldn’t even be here. We should be home.”

“This is your home now.”

Jon sighed. “And yours…”

“Jon…” Sansa waited until Jon looked at her to continue talking. “I just want you to know that I understand. I know it’s our duty and… I understand it and I don’t blame you for this.”

Jon felt some hot tears filling up his eyes as she reached to touch Sansa’s cheek. “I’m so sorry for all of this.”

Sansa put her hand on top of Jon’s and held it, squeezing it gently. “Don’t be. There are many worse fates than becoming your Queen.”

 _Your_ Queen. It didn’t sound right to think of Sansa as _his._ But what could he do? Sansa was the last living highborn lady and therefore, the only option. Had things been different, had Sansa not been his sister -cousin-, Jon would feel blessed to have her as his Queen. She _was_ beautiful and although they had their differences, he trusted Sansa with his life and loved her dearly.

He knew Sansa would be a good Queen. She was wise and she cared for the people. He knew he was doing what was best for the kingdom. And as long as there was peace and they had the people on their side, he could live with the fact he was to wed and bed his sister.

“I dare to say this is not how you dreamed you would become Queen.” He said, smiling weakly and trying to relieve some of the tension in the air.

“Back in the days I dreamed about being Queen, I would always picture a brave and gentle King in my dreams. Who would love me and protect me… I know this is not ideal but I couldn’t ask for a better husband.”

They both had tears in their eyes as Jon pulled her closer and held her lovingly.

 

* * *

* * *

 

The wedding ceremony was over and they were now in their chamber, standing naked in front of each other. The King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. The lady and the bastard who became siblings, who became cousins, who became husband and wife.

Jon held Sansa’s face in both hands and leaned in to kiss his wife. He could tell Sansa was feeling self-conscious about her body, covered in scars made by Ramsay Bolton. But to Jon, she was beautiful and he let her know that by kissing every single one of her scars.  

Every kiss brought fresh tears to Sansa’s eyes, but those were happy tears. She was alive, she was The Queen, and she had a person whom she loved and who loved her back by her side. And perhaps it wasn’t a carnal love but love nonetheless. She knew Jon would always love her in a way any other man ever could.    

And when they lay in bed and Jon entered her for the first time, consummating their union, she thanked the Gods above for allowing her to live long enough to know what it felt like to be taken with love and care.

There were many worse fates.


End file.
